Irishwomen have a dispensation from the pope to wear the thick ends of their legs downwards.
Related quotes
In this dispensation
In this dispensation
My message to the future generation
In this dispensation
Life is full of lies and atrocities
Neither the sword nor the gun
Can save you under the sun
Don't be deceived by appearance
Don't be deceived by materials
Knowing the difference between
Good and evil is the key
That which unlocks
The doors of eternity
In this dispensation
Life is full of illusion
It is full of superstition
Know that not all gritters are gold
The truth is difficult to say
But be bold
Life is full of oppression
But only the truth brings satisfaction
So learn the truth
In this dispensation
poem by Matt Ancient
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Commanders Of The Faithful
The Pope he is a happy man,
His Palace is the Vatican,
And there he sits and drains his can:
The Pope he is a happy man.
I often say when I'm at home,
I'd like to be the Pope of Rome.
And then there's Sultan Saladin,
That Turkish Soldan full of sin;
He has a hundred wives at least,
By which his pleasure is increased:
I've often wished, I hope no sin,
That I were Sultan Saladin.
But no, the Pope no wife may choose,
And so I would not wear his shoes;
No wine may drink the proud Paynim,
And so I'd rather not be him:
My wife, my wine, I love, I hope,
And would be neither Turk nor Pope.
poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
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Leg
I know your legs are
On the legs of Baali the demon king
I know your legs are
On the head of Bharata your brother
I know your legs are on the
Head of Uddhaba your follower.
You have no leg I heard.
I Know you are present everywhere
Everytime and in everybody.
I do not know what a leg is.
I know the insect has six legs
I know the animal has four legs
I know the bird has two legs.
Your leg is my project paper
I do not know howmany legs you have
I do not know I a leg is.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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You Know Where You Did Despise
You know where you did despise
(Tother day) my little Eyes,
Little Legs, and little Thighs,
And some things, of little Size,
You know where.
You, tis true, have fine black eyes,
Taper legs, and tempting Thighs,
Yet what more than all we prize
Is a Thing of little Size,
You know where.
poem by Alexander Pope
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The difference is too nice - Where ends the virtue or begins the vice.
quote by Alexander Pope
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It often happens that I wake up at night and begin to think about a serious problem and decide I must tell the Pope about it. Then I wake up completely and remember that I am the Pope.
quote by Pope John XXIII
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Extremes in nature equal ends produce; In man they join to some mysterious use.
quote by Alexander Pope
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Expostulations Of The Child-Man, The Pope In Italian Miniatures - A Mystery
The pope in Italian
exclaims, 'Bring me! '
and the echoes bring to him
his bounded wants.
The pope in Italian
twirls his fake mustache, hides behind curtains layered
thick, plots the Blessed Virgin tied upon the tracks, his
dramatic rescue of Her, the imagined headline, Greatest Of Popes.
The pope in Italian
embraces a Statue of St. Micheal when the
guards are not looking, whispers the hour of
the deed, pleads for advancement of the plot.
The pope in Italian
blesses conspiring shadows in mirrored tiles reflecting back, the
guards pretend not to notice his continual muttering, the halting gait,
the concealed silk handkerchief purposefully dropped, they wink at each other.
The pope in Italian
drunk with authority privately erases Sacred Texts with
a child's thick pencil, pardons his large fines for overdue books,
cancels the Vatican subscription to Mystery Magazine.
The pope in Italian
questions Michelangelo 'of hammers, of stone and nakedness,
the heart of the matter, ' whistles when the Artist answers,
and looks away, fingers crossed.
The pope in Italian
wears a black beret, feels his tragedy,
'another fig in hand, ' refills his goblet,
calls for a clean ashtray, another pack of Gauloises.*
The pope in Italian
feeling frisky, ice skates, holds high
his brocaded robes revealing the boyish legs, white,
they are so white, like necks of swans.
The pope in Italian
dreams again he is a young
bomber pilot dropping heavy kisses
backed up in the bomb-bay.
The pope in Italian
hides sullen behind the Golden Chair, carves his
initials there, the fateful date in Roman numerals, and
QUID EST QUOD OMNES PEGGY LEE (Is that all there is, Peggy Lee?) .
The pope in Italian
refusing all sherry before lunch, will not walk past the tapestries,
'The unicorns hate me, ' he whispers, suspicious, bitterly so,
reminds himself, 'Stop trying so hard.'
The pope in Italian
tries too hard, resets the Grandfather Clock of Ages, counts
the coins of childhood, forgets time, the ancient schemes, and dines
outside disguised as Saint Joan of Arc in Flames.
The pope in Italian
stands very still, Romanesque in Night's central fountain,
goes unnoticed but for the corners of his mouth
bleeding verdigris, and the faint smell of smoke.
The pope in Italian
practices his hands in the dark, genuflecting, blessing,
rehearses the pertinent Charlie Chaplin scene alone, the worn
piano roll in his head unraveling before the hastily scattered Host.
The pope in Italian
spies the 'end run, ' tries his hand at cards and whiskey,
bets the entire assembled Holy Guard in full dress 'all the
Church's gold and then some' on a run of Jacks.
The pope in Italian
turns the last page in the Papal Chapel, licks chapped, broken lips too long
at prayer, the votives sputtered at long last, feels his way out backwards,
steps upon the last crack and the Madonna's back is finally broken.
**Famous French unfiltered cigarettes known for their strong tobacco flavor.
***Venus of Eryx', from Sicily, brought to Rome, she embodies 'impure' love, and is the patron goddess of prostitutes
poem by Warren Falcon
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More on tattoos (pun intended)
Moron tattoos and the financial benefits thereof
One should get one's kids tattooed
When they're very young and slim
I know that declaration, on the face of it
might seem kind'a funny
But as those kids grow up
into much fatter skins
So grow the tattoos without cessation
And I might say, without being "punny"
That, without the slightest exertion
Nor any further financial dispensation
one ends up getting much, much,
Muuuuch more for one's money
poem by David Whalen
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Once Pope Under Jevais Resolvd To Adventure
Once Pope under Jevais resolvd to adventure
& from a Good Poet Pope turnd an ill painter
So from a Good Painter Charles Jervais we hope
May turn an ill Poet by living with Pope
Then Each may perform the true parts of a friend
While each will have something to blame or commend
poem by Thomas Parnell
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The Path
RUNNING along a bank, a parapet
That saves from the precipitous wood below
The level road, there is a path. It serves
Children for looking down the long smooth steep,
Between the legs of beech and yew, to where
A fallen tree checks the sight: while men and women
Content themselves with the road and what they see
Over the bank, and what the children tell.
The path, winding like silver, trickles on,
Bordered and even invaded by thinnest moss
That tries to cover roots and crumbling chalk
With gold, olive, and emerald, but in vain.
The children wear it. They have flattened the bank
On top, and silvered it between the moss
With the current of their feet, year after year.
But the road is houseless, and leads not to school.
To see a child is rare there, and the eye
Has but the road, the wood that overhangs
And underyawns it, and the path that looks
As if it led on to some legendary
Or fancied place where men have wished to go
And stay; till, sudden, it ends where the wood ends.
poem by Edward Thomas
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When The World Ends
When the world ends
Collect your things
Youre coming with me
When the world ends
You tuckle up yourself with me
Watch it as the stars disappear to nothing
The day the world is over
Well be lying in bed
Im gonna rock you like a baby when the cities fall
We will rise as the buildings crumble
Float there and watch it all
Amidst the burning, well be churning
You know, love will be our wings
The passion rises up from the ashes
When the world ends
When the world ends
Youre gonna come with me
Were going to be crazy
Like a river bends
Were going to float
Through the criss cross of the mountains
Watch them fade to nothing
When the world ends
You know thats whats happening now
Im going to be there with you somehow, oh...
Im going to tie you up like a baby in a carriage car
Your legs wont work cause you want me so
You just lie spread to the wall
The love you got is surely
All the love that I would ever need
Im going to take you by my side
And love you tall, til the world ends
Oh, but dont you worry about a thing
No, cause I got you here with me
Dont you worry about a
Just you and me
Floating through the empty, empty
Just you and me
Oh, graces
Oh, grace
Oh, when the world ends
Well be burning one
When the world ends
Well be sweet makin love
Oh, you know when the world ends
Im going to take you aside and say
Lets watch it fade away, fade away
And the worlds done
Ours just begun
Its done
Ours just begun
Were gonna dive into the emptiness
Well be swimming
Im going to walk you through the pathless roads
Im going to take you to the top of the mountain thats no longer there
Im going to take you to bed and love you, I swear
Like the end is here
Im going to take you up to
Im going to take you down on you
Im going to hold you like an angel, angel
Im going to love you
Im going to love you
When the world ends
Im going to hold you
When the world is over
Well just be beginning...
song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Wear It So Well
All of those things
Yeah, that you got to give
Yeah, you wear it so well
Hey, you wear it so well
All of those stories
Honey, that i know you could tell
Yeah, you wear it so well
And your face hides it so we can't tell
That you knew we would wear it so well
You wear it so well
Yeah darling, you wear it so well
(you wear it so well)
Yeah baby, you wear it so well
(you wear it so well)
Yeah now baby, you wear it so well
(you wear it so well)
Hey now darling now, yeah, you wear it so well
(you wear it so well)
All of those things
That make poets sing
You wear it so well
Yeah, you hide it so well
And all of those pain
That you used to tell
You hide it so well
Can't tell from your face that you knew it so well
Hey, now that you have such a story to tell
Yeah, you got style and grace and you wear it so well
You wear it so well
And you got, you got such a story to tell
Yeah, yeah, yeah, you wear it so well
Grace and style equals you so well
Yeah, yeah, yeah, you wear it so well, well, yeah, so well
Yeah, you wear it, wear it, wear it now, wear it now, baby
Yeah, now you wear it so well
And you got such a story to tell
(ooohhh, ooohhh, ooohhh)
(ooohhh, you wear it so well)
(you wear it so well)
(you wear it so well)
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hot Legs
(rod stewart)
Whos that knocking on my door
Its gotta be a quarter to four
Is it you again coming round for more
Well you can love me tonight if you want
But in the morning make sure youre gone
Im talkin to you
Hot legs, wearing me out
Hot legs, you can scream and shout
Hot legs, are you still in school
I love you honey
Gotta most persuasive tongue
You promise all kinds of fun
But what you dont understand
Im a working man
Gonna need a shot of vitamin e
By the time youre finished with me
Im talking to you
Hot legs, youre an alley cat
Hot legs, you scratch my back
Hot legs, bring your mother too
I love you honey
Imagine how my daddy felt
In your jet black suspender belt
Seventeen years old
Hes touching sixty four
You got legs right up to your neck
Youre making me a physical wreck
Im talking to you
Hot legs, in your satin shoes
Hot legs, are you still in school
Hot legs, youre making me a fool
I love you honey
Hot legs, making your mark
Hot legs, keep my pencil sharp
Hot legs, keep your hands to yourself
I love you honey
Hot legs, youre wearing me out
Hot legs, you can scream and shout
Hot legs, youre still in school
I love you honey
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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AWarning To Ladies
A Warning To Ladies
Ladies - a warning about men.
Only the nunnery is safe
From their plots against you.
You are always in danger.
Men lay traps for ladies.
All men should be locked up.
Young mne. Men in the middle
And especially old men with money.
Men will say: 'You are a goddess.'
They will worship you.
The Pope worships Marys,
Popes and Bishops wear dresses.
They pretend to be friends of ladies.
'The swine! ' you cry
Clebrated celibate-
'A pig in a Pope' hogging power,
Power over ladies.
The Pope says 'Ladies must have babies,
And stay at home, please men.
Men will lie on you.
Men will le to you.
'You are the only one! '
Just for now, that is.
Men are unjust bad boys
Escaped from Never Never Land.
Men never grow up. They like toys.
Men play with balls.
Men want to play games with you
Even if you have a headache.
But some men are alright.
Ladies can trust men who are dead.
Deadmen can be trusted. They are quiet.
Quiet as the grave.
They live in graveyards.
Dead men are grave and silent.
Yes, these men can be trusted by ladies.
These are saints. Saints are all dead men
All the live men are sinners.
You have been warned.
Peter Godfrey
poem by Peter Godfrey
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I am more afraid of my own heart than of the pope and all his cardinals. I have within me the great pope, Self.
quote by Martin Luther
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If someone had told me I would be Pope one day, I would have studied harder.
quote by Pope John Paul I
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I wouldn't take the Pope too seriously. He's a Pole first, a pope second, and maybe a Christian third.
quote by Muriel Spark
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hips got Soul
You can still be healthy and be a Super Model
with thick wide hips.
Not like your predecessor showing up in Cosmo
or on television with skinny legs and
dehydrated lips.
Television and magazines persuade you
to gag up your inner beauty.
Until you suffer from post-traumatic stress,
feel pity and then gain a small booty.
The reality of real sexy thick mamas still
live on from Marilyn Monroe, Pam Grier and
even Whoopi Goldberg and they all have and had soul.
Bringing entertainment with a bang, beauty and thick hips
looking like solid gold.
So never lose your inner beauty because of someone else
that isn't comfortable with the way that you look.
Because some day you may rise to the occasion, with your hips
that got soul and pose inside the Jet Magazine book.
poem by Ranis Thomas III
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While we are the Pope we'll pontificate; who knows if we'll be Pope another time.